


Cry Havoc! And Let Slip the Spawn of War

by Carmarthen



Category: Good Omens - Gaiman & Pratchett
Genre: Crack, F/F, Fpreg, Humor, fryfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-03
Updated: 2010-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-05 18:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmarthen/pseuds/Carmarthen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War is ready to spawn; Pepper plays Practical Mother; Massacre is a fan of the World Cup. "Spawn" is not a euphemism.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cry Havoc! And Let Slip the Spawn of War

**Author's Note:**

> Long ago, some friends and I were chatting about MPREG, and about people using inadequate understanding of sea horse biology as a justification (hint: in real life, you need a lady seahorse to make the eggs!). Thus fryfic, the lesbian equivalent of MPREG, was born.
> 
> BLARGH.
> 
> Strangely, this *cough* spawned a serious, funny, touching, and beautiful sequel by [afrai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/afrai/pseuds/afrai), [A Strenuous Family](http://thewritegirls.populli.net/afrai/strenuous.html), which is about 50 million times better than this one. So maybe you should go read that instead (it barely refers to spawn at all).

Pepper was a little worried when War got something that looked an awful lot like morning sickness. She was an anthropomorphic personification of war, after all. Surely she couldn't be pregnant. Besides, what sort of children would War have? Pepper shivered; she was brave, but not that brave.

Well. Pepper held War's flaming red hair back for her and murmured vaguely soothing things (soothing if one didn't listen too closely, at least). Finally she asked.

War suddenly became fascinated by her scarlet nails. "Um," she said.

* * *

For nine months, soldiers all over the world found that life had become more disconcerting than usual; weapons turned into ice cream, battlefield geography rearranged itself overnight, generals awoke in their tanks instead of their beds, and entire squadrons disappeared, never to be heard from again.

Pepper just gritted her teeth and tried to find enough samosas to satisfy a pregnant anthropomorphic personification's cravings.

With the delivery time fast approaching, War took Pepper to a cabin by a lake somewhere in the Rockies.

Pepper tried not to tear her hair out in frustration.

* * *

"I'm going to spawn!" War gasped one morning, and ran out the door and down to the lakeshore. Pepper arrived in time to see the spawn slip from War's mouth and into the water. She jogged down to the lake and picked them up. They were vaguely human-looking, she supposed, under the strange pinkish membranes that covered them. And kind of slimy, but Pepper had never been particularly bothered by slimy things.

One, two, three. Pepper pulled off her shirt and wrapped them in it.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Terrible," War muttered. "Spawning is always exhausting. Let me see them."

Pepper handed the spawn over. War's face softened a bit as she held them. "Aw...I think I'll name then Destruction, Massacre, and Friendly Fire."

Pepper rolled her eyes. They'd have to talk about that later; she wasn't going to let any adopted spawn of hers suffer such weird names. And seriously, Friendly Fire? That was even worse than Galadriel.

* * *

Pepper soon fell into the role of Practical Mother, since War wasn't very good at it. Until the spawn grew up into beings capable of inciting mass chaos, she wasn't really interested in them.

"No, Bob!" Pepper said to Destruction. "That's your brother's toy."

Friendly Fire hid behind her, sniffling. He stepped on her foot, and she bit back a curse. He was such a _clumsy_ child, Pepper thought. Maybe he would grow out of it.

Destruction stuck out his tongue at Friendly Fire and dropped the toy Kalashnikov, which broke. "Oops," he said, radiating innocence.

Friendly Fire started crying. Pepper sighed in exasperation. "Bob! Go inside and help your mum set the table. And where is Joe?"

Destruction shrugged. Friendly Fire stopped crying long enough to point at the edge of the woods, where Massacre was engaged in stomping on anthills.

Pepper sighed again and set off towards him. Raising little harbingers of despair was exhausting work.

* * *

"Pete?"

"Bob? _Bob?_ Gosh, I haven't seen you since that mix-up last year in Afghanistan. How have you been?" Friendly Fire clapped Destruction on the shoulder.

"Oh, all right. Keeping myself busy. A few museums here, a few governments there," Destruction said.

"Hey, you know Joe--Massacre--he's been slacking off a bit with the wholesale death. World Cup. You know how Joe loves his football. Mum is really pissed," Friendly Fire said.

"Which one?" Destruction asked.

"You know. The not-human one."

"Ah, right. How _is_ Mum?"

"Which one?" Friendly Fire asked.

"The human one."

"Okay, I think. She and Mum haven't really been talking much lately. I think Mum knew someone who died in one of Mum's projects."

"Pity. Ah, well, I suppose most people's parents go through bad patches, right?"

Friendly Fire shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. Say, how about a drink? I know this great little place over in Africa...."


End file.
